Monthly Archives: September 2015

As I wander in my mind to the part where you stay
The remnants of your scent now a little mixed with my own
They’re as they had always been, moist with tears as I cry
For today I can’t find the warmth, which you left there last night

You’re the place I seek shelter in when I feel broken and scarred
You’re the music that holds me when my soul’s falling apart
On senseless days like these I need to reach out to you
And touch you to know you’re real, touch you to know you’re true

I stretched my hand tonight and felt that you’re not there
Scared I woke up from my bed and out of the window stared
Doubting if I’ve been fooled again, doubting if I’m lost
Fumbling through stones is easier, through feelings it’s hard

What do I have in my hands but the ashes of yesterday’s pain
They feel like they’re real, like they had never gone away
I close my eyes and shut them tight and hold my heart and pray
That tonight’s just a nightmare and it will pass away

I remember being a naive teenager. Facts were carved in stone, information was important, I had an absolute judgement of things. Implies? Right v/s. Wrong. Black v/s. White. Grey did not exist. Grey in my opinion could not exist. I always had this firm unbiased opinion about things I knew. Partly because my parents had encouraged my habit of asking questions. They didn’t try to shut me up, they wanted me to think rationally. And I did. Until I found out that certain things exist in the shadow of the curtain, it’s neither light nor dark, neither white nor black. It was grey there, it is grey there and it’s in this grey where life’s most beautiful and most dangerous things happen.

For years I couldn’t write about them. The two of them, mom and dad. I can’t write certain things, specially if they are too close to my heart. Sometimes certain people make you feel something so strong that you take time to absorb it, slowly and carefully understand the feeling. Because time runs out and when you’re all alone you just rewind your memory and feel it, and it’s still there intact and untouched, as if it just happened, as if you travelled in time. Isn’t it magical to feel something so deeply? It is in a way but it’s difficult to show it to the world. They’ve got eyes that see but don’t retain.

I remember my parents being like any other married couple in my house, in any house for that matter. She cooked, he worked. She did all the housework, told me stories, watched the television, more stories. That’s exactly what everyone else did. But in spite of being a kid I saw the difference. My mother never took extra efforts to look good or tidy. She never behaved like other housewives getting ready by dusk because their husbands came back. It’s not that they never fought, not that they never had misunderstandings. But what I did notice is that they always cleared things out and never went to bed holding things back. She did not point his weakness out. She knew he knew it. She always encouraged him and gave him ideas regarding his work. He motivated her to learn, to study, to be independent. He knew that she was better than him at certain things and she knew the same about him. This was their strength. They thought of each other as parts of a jigsaw puzzle, there was always something in one that the other missed and it was only together that they could be stronger.

He loved her and respected everything she loved. She loved with all her heart and we could all see that they never took each other for granted. Yes they were crazy, threw things here and there, sometimes even hurl things at each other when they pissed each other off, but everyone knew that they’d settle it down, they always did.

He wouldn’t eat without her, he hated travelling without. He didn’t want her like an obsession, he simply preferred her company. Even though she wasn’t very expressive about it we knew she liked it. I sometimes felt out of place with them and hence spent most of my time with my grandparents. They were both very affable and social individually but when they were together, they very often zoned people out.

Even in the hospital he spoke of her to the nurses. He spoke of her to relatives and friends. She was his friend, his love, and his life. What else does a woman want to be? This is what she had, something that I understand now, all women crave. To be loved and understood and respected all it once. And above everything, to be accepted. For all our flaws and follies.

It was a hard time for her when he passed away. It still is. Whenever I think about it and look at her, it almost kills me. I feel this helplessness, that I know what she wants and no amount of money can buy her that. She never cries, not a tear. It kills me even more. She is lonely but not because she needs someone. It’s because she needs something that can’t be replaced. It’s a place she chooses to live in now, in memories. The struggle is real for memories are bitchy and they tend to fade. I can forget his face, his voice, his air but what I can’t forget is how she was with him. How one person can effortlessly be such a big part of someone’s life. And most importantly how love is the only thing that wins over death. You might forget what they were but you can’t forget how they made you feel.

They have set an example, not of love but of friendship. Of feeling things at a whole new level. No I don’t believe anyone should wait like she does. But somehow she thinks that’s the best she can be. We share a similar friendship, mom and me. That’s how we look at our relationships. Our idea of love isn’t the sort of love people see in the movies, maybe that’s the reason why both of us hardly watch the television. The lack of love in the world makes me sad, but I don’t blame mom for this. He loved us, moulded us and then left us. Not that he had a choice. But you know what I regret? Not being able to thank him, not being able to love him, not being able to tell him that he is the best a man can be. That the world was wrong, he was enough, he is enough and beautiful and the best father of all best fathers the world has ever seen.

So yeah i know, i know the title sounds sort of chic. It could’ve been “Why Marry A Man Who Travels?” but whatever i get to choose just one title! Deal with it!

I generally meet a lot of people who have ‘travelling’ on their mind. Like if you ask them what they would really want to do in life and at some point they’d mention it. So it ranges from ‘I wanna skydive’, ‘Climb mountains’ or even ‘World Tour’. But eventually what really happens is that they get ‘caught up’ in life and give up on what they so wanted to do. Nevertheless there are some people who make it. Of course they do. I know a couple of people , no no not vagabonds and rich crazy brats but independent people who travel and live the dream. So here’s why i think you must totally give it a try.

1. They understand finances better than anyone.

Someone who travels knows the real value of money. Yes, it’s their passion of meeting new people and visiting new places that makes them travel but you have to keep in mind that money fuels travelling. Therefore, they value your money, which also implies that they value your time, which also implies that they value your presence in their life because let’s be real, time’s short.

2. They are open minded.

Language changes at every 10 km in India which means that cultural ideas and opinions change at a similar rate. Whether it’s inside the country or abroad exposure to new ideas and opinions helps us come out of the cliches and the walls that living at one place in a particular society surrounds us with. This man or woman understands that it is human to be different and hence they find it easier to accept you with whatever the hell humanly flaws you got.

3. They appreciate your need for space.

Travelling like writing is a personal thing. You might travel with a bunch of people, but what you feel is totally yours, you might jot it down in a journal or try to capture it in pictures but nothing really seems to convey how you feel exactly at that particular moment. What we fail to understand about travelers is that it isn’t only about the beauty of the places one visits, it’s a sense of freedom, a sense of breaking boundaries that comes with travelling. And this is exactly what makes travelling as beautiful as it is. Once you reach this state, you want your better half to feel the same, to push the boundaries we create in our own head.

4. They give more meaningful gifts.

Okay this one’s girly but hey! we all like gifts don’t we? It isn’t about expensive gifts, it’s about meaningful ones. This man/woman will give you something that is close to them, something that has made them feel something special. It could be a beautiful feather, a unique seashell or anything as random as that. They always give you something you’d want to cherish, something you’d look at when they’re away or when you are upset.

5. They have something to say

Their box of stories is literally bursting out since they meet several people and do several different things on their trips. Listening to their stories and looking at pictures taken is a much better way of spending time together than many other things people generally do. Also, even if they are not talking or telling you something, their silence doesn’t hurt because silence means something to them, they tend to make it comfortable and peaceful.

I was completely unaware of this aspect of travelling, the spiritual aspect until i read “Invisible Cities’ by my favorite Italian author Italo Calvino. Here Calvino describes various beautiful constructs of cities to the King, all the while describing Venice. The book talks about amusements of travelling and how travelling helps us look at life in a completely different perspective. Well yes this is why i think it’s an amazing thing to befriend/date/marry someone who travels. Go ahead!